


The Wrestler's Club

by WantheWoozer



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Wrestling, wrestling club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantheWoozer/pseuds/WantheWoozer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the desperation to escape his broken memory, Bucky, finds solace in a Mexican wrestler's club</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrestler's Club

The scrambling noise of trainers squeaking across a newly cleaned wooden floor echoed through his mind. He sat at the edge of room picking aimlessly at the bandages wrapped firmly around his hands. The room was filled with muscly men fighting amongst themselves with bean bags and people. He could hear the loud crunch of bone being snapped as a punch of fists against face reverberated around the room. The room flinched as blood splattered across the floor and walls except for him. He sat still and unfazed by the empathetic pain the room was feeling. He ignored his naturally human reactions and continued to fiddle instinctively with the yellowing fabric.

He was sat calmly and unthinking within the local wrestling club of Todos Santos. He came every day from 5am proceeding to punch and maul bean bags until 9am when the rest of the town’s muscly men decided to join him. He felt uncomfortable in amongst normal people so found it hard to interact or even act when amongst them therefore he would fiddle with his hands. After they left at about 7pm he would continue his bean bag punching until he was kindly asked to leave.

Today he decided that watching the fights that occurred perpetually every day would be a good change in behaviour. He had never gotten involved with one of the fights and had never seen one finish so today he was going to change that.

He inhaled a large gulp of breathe lifting his head up towards the fighting ring.

One man wobbled from side to side huffing as he clenched and unclenched his fists. His jaw was slightly out of line and a waterfall of blood trickled down his face dripping onto the floor. The other man stood tall and proud with his broad shoulders shadowing the weaker man. He had clearly been the champion within this fight and most likely many others. He rounded his neck clicking it in three different places before he stared down at the wobbling man. The spectator sat at the edge of the room still fiddling aimlessly with his hands began to count slowly down from ten.

A part of him knew after he had finished his count down the poor young man that wobbled uncontrollably from side to side would be lying unconscious upon the ring’s floor.

He sighed considering whether there was any point to watching the fight. He had already missed the important parts and he knew who the clear winner was. A loud grinding noise burst through the silence within the room as the stronger broad shoulder man slammed his fist firmly into the wobbling man face. His head tilt back and he fell with a thud to the ground. The spectating man frowned slightly.

He had only reached to number eight before the man was knocked out.

He clearly had misjudged the speed that the weaker man would fall. He shrugged his shoulders and watched as the champion cheered himself with complete and utter self-confidence pouring from his body. The spectator sighed as he looked up at the clock hoping they would leave soon. Being sat at the edge of the room left to your thoughts was not a healthy trait especially in his condition.

“Who wants to fight me next? Or are you all afraid I’ll beat your sorry arses.”

The champion shouted with slight tinge of a Mexican accent present.

Majority of the men in the wrestling club spoke English and not many spoke Spanish to the spectator’s surprise. Luckily for him he could speak both languages meaning he really did not care. Not that he cared what others were saying anyway. The champion scanned the room for a new target in his sadistic game of power. His eyes bore into the spectator’s forehead as he waited to make contact with him. The spectator clenched his fists as he came to terms with his fate. He tried to think of an easy escape that wouldn’t involve his humiliation but there did not seem to be one. He got to his feet and decided the best option was to leave and return later. He could go out for stroll or get some food. Anything would be better than attempting to fight. The champion refused to allow him to leave. He roared with laughter as he stared down with disgust at the man.

“Too afraid to fight me, huh?”

He chuckled spitting slightly with his words.

The spectator turned his head away and tried to reach the door. Before he could even place his hand upon the handle a very large group of muscly men stood in front of him towering over him making sure he could not leave. The spectator sighed. He could fight them and leave but there were quite a few of them and that would cause quite a commotion. Or he could fight one man and hope that the attention would be passed from him to the champion. The only problem he had was he didn’t know how to hold back. The large group of men pushed him harshly into the ring chuckling cynically under their breaths. The spectator looked about himself trying to find the exits, staring back at all the faces staring at him and working out where the champion’s weaknesses were. The champion smiled evilly as he tightened the blood stained bandages wrapped around his hands.

“You’ll have to take off your top if you want to fight. T’is only fair. I don’t have mine on.”

The champion spat with pure distaste.

The spectator awkwardly and fearfully looked at the man’s bare chest and then back down to his own covered chest. He wore a large grey jumper that covered his arms and hands. He had a very valid reason for wearing it and he had hoped never to take it off in public. His breathing hitched slightly as he gripped at the edges of the jumper pulling it over his head. He threw the jumper over the edge of the ring onto the clean wooden floor. The room echoed with shock as they all stared at him with a mixture of fear, sorrow and amazement.

His chest was devoid of hair unlike his fellow wrestling club members. His smooth tanned skin glistening slightly with sweat from wearing a large grey jumper in the summers of Mexico. His muscles tightened and hardened in his right arm as he clenched his fist ready to fight. Wire-like scars spread across his left shoulder in towards his chest and heart. As for his left arm…

it was completely metallic.

Layers of metal on metal built together to create an arm-like figure attached firmly to his left side. His left hand had pointless bandages wrapped firmly around it. And plastered quite clearly upon his metallic shoulder was a large red star. His arm shone in the light of the wrestling club blinding a few members that were close by him. He gulped uncomfortably as he watched the room considered their safety of their lives within his presence.

The owner of the building raised an eyebrow almost reaching the roof. He reached out his hand towards his friend and pulled a wallet from his back pocket.

“I bet fifty dollars on robot boy over here.”

He said plainly without taking his eyes off of the spectator. The room roared into life as people shouted and threw money around betting not so quietly on the fight that had yet to begin. The champion fidgeted on the spot as he came to terms with his fate. The spectator had a valid reason as said before as to why he never took off his jumper and never fought.

He didn’t know how to control his strength and he hoped nobody would ever know his secret about his metal arm.

He stared down at his feet and then looked shyly back up at the champion. The champion had built up his confidence again and stared cynically towards him as if waiting to put his blood on his list of wins. The spectator shuffled slightly pulling his metal arm round in a circular motion so that clicked loudly into place. He had not used it for a very long time so he hoped it was a little rusty.

An ear piercing ring echoed through his ears as the fight began. The spectator flinched at the sound of the bell and scrunched his eyes as he tried desperately to place the champion in regards to himself. Suddenly a fist of man meat hurtled towards his face. Without a second thought he ducked underneath it and lifted his clenched right hand up towards the champion’s chest.

With a loud crunch the champion’s ribs were shattered into pieces. He stumbled backwards gripping at his chest with agony burning his eyes to tears already huffing out of breath. The spectator stood awkwardly and unsure. He had never fought in a fight before where it was against the rules to kill the other man. He had only ever known to kill. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as if it were attempting to escape his infected diseased body. He felt his breathing become heavy as his mind began to panic.

Had he gone too far?

He did not know what was too far and what wasn’t enough.

The crowd roared with cheers calling out a name he did not know. He didn’t know whether it was their nickname for him or the name of the man most likely dying in front of him.

“Knock him out. Knock him out. Knock him out.”

The crowd chanted over and over again as they stared proudly at the spectator. Maybe they were right. The best option for the champion was for him to knock him out. That way they could get him to a hospital easily and quickly. He clenched his right hand pressing his nails firmly into his palm leaving red marks behind. He pulled his arm back and launched it towards the champion.

His fist planted itself firmly into his cheek. The champion fell to the floor and hit his head brutally. A loud crack was heard as the champion was knocked unconscious. The crowd cheered and roared with both happiness and disappointment. The owner gladly collected wads of cash from the fellow members counting as he went. Soon the crowd dispersed, the champion was rushed to hospital and the spectator was left to clean the mess. The owner stood over him as he scrubbed the floor clean of blood and sweat.

“What’s ya name boy?”

The spectator looked up from the floor and stared with horror at the owner. He didn’t know what his name was. That was why he was hiding in a little town of Mexico. He shuffled slightly from left to right.

He had been called three things in his lifetime. Well in the life that he remembered. The people that he worked for merely saw him as a machine that repeated back messages that were recorded within his mind.

They would call him Asset.

That name no longer appealed to him. He knew now that he was no machine. He was a man once with a name like any other man. Others who were scared of him would call him

The Winter Soldier.

But he was no soldier and did not deserve such a proud and royal name such as soldier. There was one name that stuck firmly in his brain. A name that even though he had survived 70 odd years of brainwashing still reverberating through his head like a scream of agony. One name that a man once called out to him in hopes of recognition. All it had done was unravel the tightly bound chains on his memory and his sanity.

“Bucky…”

He whispered as his eyes gradually began to fill with tears of sorrow not yet understood. He gulped suddenly realising that he had spoken.

“Bucky, eh?”

Bucky looked up at the man unsure whether to let him call him that or correct him. It didn’t feel right for another human being to call him by that name. It seemed strange, unfamiliar and angered him slightly. He turned his face away and clenched his fist. He needed to correct the man before it stuck.

“No… my name is James. I think.”

The owner frowned with tinge of confusion but shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

“You’re gonna make me a lot of money James so get yourself ready for a lot of fighting.”

Bucky gulped as he came to terms with the contract in which he had just signed with yet another devil. Once again his soul would be passed on and used by another man in hopes of a beneficial reason. Unlike the previous men this one wanted money not power but maybe to him power came with money. He sighed and turned back to his scrubbing. How could he have let something so stupid happen yet again? How could he let his reality, his sanity, his memories slip away from him again? He took and deep breath and tried desperately to forget his past and focus on the blood stained floors that he needed to clean.

*****

Steve Rogers barged through the crowds desperately trying to find a face that seemed helpful. Nobody was paying any attention to his desperate plea for help. They all seemed to be bustling towards the wrestling club as if their lives depended on it. If only they knew what he was going through? Maybe then they would realise that their lives did depend on him. He decided his search was inevitably failing in the evening sky and felt his depressed body being forcefully pushed towards the wrestling club. To his surprise a familiar face stood amongst the crowd of spectators. Sam Wilson pushed towards him grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him towards the front of the arena.

“Sorry mate. I couldn’t get anyone to listen to me. And then I got dragged into this old dump. What the hell is going on?”

Sam questioned as more people shoved themselves into the claustrophobic room. Steve sighed loudly as he looked amongst the crowd trying to find a reason for their presence here.

“Apparently there is fight tonight. You can pay fifty dollars to fight the reigning champion of Todos Santos. Tonight is Rodrigo. There is a long list of people waiting to fight the champion. He is strong and handsome… apparently.”

Steve sighed. Sam frowned with concern for his depressed friend. They had been searching for months on end for any presence or sighting of Bucky. But it just seemed like the man had disappeared off the face of the Earth soon after SHIELD and HYDRA fell. Steve was desperate to find him and help him. It was best friend. From what Sam had heard and learnt of Steve’s and Bucky’s relationship it seemed to him that Steve was unconditionally in love with Bucky. He wanted to help his friend find Bucky but a part of him was worried.

Worried about what they were going to do with him after they found him.

He is a brainwashed ex-assassin with a metal arm and sanity issues. He had a valid reason for being worried for both his life and Steve’s. A bell rang loudly as the fight in the ring began. He looked up at the fight trying to separate himself from the depressive mood clouding over the two of them. To his surprise a metal armed man stood in the ring swaying slightly as his opponent tried to attack him. Steve was paying less attention to the fight and more to his feet. Sam shoved his elbow harshly into his ribs and pointed frantically at the ring. Steve sighed thinking that Sam was merely trying to distract him from his sorrow. He gave him the appreciation and looked up towards the ring. Stood in front of looking away towards his opponent was Bucky. How had they missed that?

*****

The fight was over within a matter of moments. The poor young gentleman that had paid fifty dollars to fight the metal maniac and fallen unconscious after just one hit. Bucky was sent off home to rest for the next evening of fights and the owner counted his money collected from bet’ers and wannabe fighters. An envelope of money was thrown onto his desk in front of him. From a first glance there was at least a hundred dollars in there. The owner smirked knowing that there was probably a man and his friend wanting to contend in his winning game of warriors.

“There is hundred dollars in there. I want in in the next fight.”

The owner looked up from his desk and frowned at the blonde gentleman that stood leaning upon his desk in front of him. His buddy stood behind him in the doorway watching with his arms folded with determination.

“That ain’t gonna happen mate. Fifty dollars to fight no jumping the line.”

Steve pulled out another hundred dollars and placed it on top. He raised an eyebrow and waited for the owner’s reply.

“I don’t fall under bribes.”

Another hundred was added to the pile. Steve was determined to play in the next fight no matter what the cost. He knew there were other ways to get what he wanted but he hoped bribing, even though it was a horrible thing, would be the safer option. The owner stared at the money. He licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine. Five hundred and you’re in the next fight.”

The owner spoke. He had expected the man to walk away and forget about it. He wanted the money for sure but he would have a lot of debating on his hands if he let this man skip the line. To his surprise Steve pulled another three hundred dollars out of his jacket and pushed the six hundred dollars towards the man.

“An extra hundred for your troubles.”

Steve muttered as he pulled a ticket from the man’s machine and walked out of the room. The owner was an honest man and he knew that because he had promised five hundred for the man to be in the next fight he had to go through with it. He sighed angrily as he got himself ready for the following evening.

*****

The crowd roared with excitement as Bucky entered the ring. A few of the men were disappointed that they were not fighting today as promised but they were still happy to watch the fight of the century. Bucky swayed slightly from side to side. Not out tiredness or weakness but because he could remember the faces of every man he had sent flying to the hospital. He frowned with sorrow as he awaited his next victim. His heart was pounding with nerves as the contender entered the ring. He did not lift his head but merely waited for the bell to ring signalling the start of the fight.

*ring ring ring ring ring ring*

The bell echoed as he closed his eyes ready for the fight. He lifted his head up shaking it slightly and clenched his fists. He looked forward towards his contender expecting a puny man that would be easy to fight.

To his surprise Steve Rogers stood half naked in front of him fists clenched and ready.

His head ached with memories of times he could not recall. The room began to spin in circles as his breathing hitched. His heart raced through his chest like an untamed horse. His breathing was erratic and uncontrollable. Everything seemed uncontrollable. He screamed out in anger at Steve and charged towards him.

The crowd gasped with amazement never having seen him fight with such emotion.

Bucky lifted Steve from the ground and slammed him against the floor. He straddled his chest keeping him firmly against the ground and pounded his face over and over again with his fists. Both his metal and his meaty fists collided continuously with Steve’s face. The crowd backed away fearfully as Bucky released his full force of anger on Steve. The owner moved forward attempting to break the fight but Sam held him back.

“Sorry mate I can’t let you do that.”

Sam spoke addressing it to the whole crowd as well as the owner. The owner frowned with disgust and confusion as he stared over Sam’s shoulder at the bloodied face of Steve Rogers. The man pointed towards the fight and looked up towards Sam.

“He’s gonna kill him.”

The owner almost screamed. Sam shrugged his shoulders and pushed the owner away making sure no one else tried to break up the fight. Bucky continued to scream at the top of his lungs as he punched Steve in the face.

“I don’t remember you. I don’t remember you. I don’t remember you.”

He shouted as his punches became slower and less forceful. Steve stared back at Bucky his face bloodied and bruised all over. His breathing was heavy but he was still conscious. Bucky felt the tears dripping from his face onto Steve’s bare chest. Steve held out his hand and placed it gently upon Bucky’s cheek. Bucky bent into it as his hands slumped to his sides. His head fell forwards and rested on Steve’s chest as he cried for what felt like the first time in forever.

“I’m so sorry Steve. Please… I’m so sorry.”

He cried as Steve ran his fingers tenderly through his hair. It was knotty and wet but he did not care. After all this time he had finally found Bucky. No matter what Bucky was going to come back with him and he was going to care for him. Because he loved Bucky, he always had and now it was his turn to look after Buck rather than Bucky looking after him.

Steve got to his feet and pulled Bucky into his arms so he was carrying him princess style. Bucky had fallen unconscious due to the stress of the situation. The room stared in horror as Steve, carrying Bucky, and Sam left the wrestling club unfazed and uncaring by what had just happened. The poor owner had fallen into shock and sat by the window fanning himself as he breathed erratically. To any normal person this was a rather shocking and terrorising occurrence for sure. But Steve did not care. He had won the fight and the war against HYDRA.

Bucky was back with him and there was no way anyone would be able to take him away again.


End file.
